At this specific moment?
My face must reflect something conducive to my thoughts because he laughs. “You look like I just asked you to multiply seven-hundred and fifty-two by three-hundred and sixty-nine.”
Reaching out, he touches the top of my shoulder, and I can’t help but flinch at the contact.
Confusion contorts his face. “Vinnie, are you ok?—”
“I’ve got to go,” I say immediately, snapping out of my stupor and cutting off his question before he can finish asking it. “It was good to see you, Sulliv—Sully. Take care.”
Abandoning my empty salad box, I rush from the store and out onto the busy Manhattan sidewalk. I don’t stop once I’m outside, though. Instead, I cross the street, walking until I see a small alcove to step into. It takes a minute for me to catch my breath, my chest heaving with anxiety as the air cycles through my lungs hard and fast. My vision swims for a moment, and I tip my head back, taking a deep breath through my nose.
My reaction was irrational—I know that. But seeing Sully made me think of Sly, and thinking of Sly…
I have to stop. I need to put my emotions aside and continue forward with my plan of marrying August, even if it kills me.
The wedding is a week away. My final dress fitting istomorrow.
Everything is in motion.
Sly is safe.
And I’ll do everything to keep it that way.
When I walk into the bridal boutique, I’m immediately handed a glass of champagne by a smiling woman. There’s a light scent of rose permeating through the air and soft music playing on the sound system.
My mother's voice carries over the music in a squeal of delight as I thank the woman and move toward the bridesmaid dresses she’s browsing through while waiting for me.
She’s still upset I went with light pink and gray as my wedding colors—she was pushing for lavender.
“Oh, honey! You look gorgeous,” my mother gushes, pulling me in for a hug. I’m careful not to spill my champagne on her as she does.
Before the dress fitting, a hairstylist and makeup artist came to the apartment to go over wedding looks and did a sample makeover. My hair is curled to perfection, left loose down my back, while my makeup is pristine. Dramatic, but also timeless.
When I saw myself in the mirror for the first time once they had finished working their magic, my eyes became misty. I looked every bit of the bride I’d always imagined I would be—I just wasn’t marrying the right man.
Now, as I make my way across the store for my final gown fitting, I feel overwhelmingly nauseous. My dress is on a hanger beside the three mirrors surrounding a single, circular pedestal for brides to stand on and admire the gowns they’re trying on.
And I will admire my gown. It deserves it—my dress is stunning. Everything I always dreamed of.
Flowing tulle with floral lace detailing, cut in an A-line that features a gorgeous, full train. The long, gauzy sleeves cuff at my wrists, giving it a fairy-like feel as it sits off my shoulders. Paired with a diamond tiara fit for a princess, I’m able to forgo a veil, although my mother is still trying to fight me on the issue, begging me to wear a traditional cathedral veil.
Sighing deeply, I run my fingertips against the exquisite fabric.
For a moment, I let myself envision my wedding day. A wedding day where Sly is the one standing in front of the altar wearing a black tuxedo, his hands clasped behind his back as he watches me walk down the aisle to him. My heart aches at the vision, and I bite my lip to keep myself from crying.
“Your dress is magnificent, sweetheart. It’s perfect for you,” my mother's voice breaks through my thoughts.
I plaster on a smile and turn toward her. “It’s what I’ve always imagined.”
Bringing the champagne flute to my lips, I tip it back and drink down the bubbles, emptying it in one go.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Paladino! Mrs. Paladino! Will anyone else be joining us today?” the saleswoman, Veronica, greets, stopping in front of us. She’s enthusiastic, practically beaming as she looks from me to my gown.
“Just us,” I confirm.
“Excellent, let's get started then!”
Metal scrapes metal as she pulls the hanger from the rack and sweeps her arm beneath the gown to carry it into the fitting room. I follow her in as my mother takes a seat on the plush, button-tufted white couch. Once I step into the spacious changing area, Veronica pulls the curtain behind me.
